Last Tuesday, the New York Post revealed that the woman behind was their own Page Six senior reporter, Stephanie Smith. Starting in June of 2012, Smith has been making sandwiches for her boyfriend, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with the goal of reaching 300 sandwiches, and an engagement ring?

The story goes like this: One day, Stephanie innocently made her boyfriend Eric a turkey and swiss sandwich. “Babes,” he says, “this is delicious!” and declares, “Honey, you’re 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring!” So, of course, like any rational person, she scoffed angrily and rolled her eyes said that of course she’d do it! And she’d blog about it too.

In the three days since the Post released the article, the internet has been up in arms. Twitter became abuzz with the hashtag #300feministsandwiches. People were shocked and offended by Eric’s chauvinistic challenge. Others were more optimistic. Maureen O’Connor of the New York Post reminded everyone that it’s not over yet:

Now, before you get all upset about a modern woman living the punch line of a sexist joke, remember that Stephanie still has 124 sandwiches to go. She could still be radicalized, somewhere around sandwich 182. And then when she gets to sandwich 297, she reveals that she has been poisoning him, slowly and steadily, all this time. But now that he has entered this ironclad agreement of nuptial sandwiches, he has no choice but to marry her! After she force-feeds him the final three sandwiches, she inherits his vast fortune of sandwich-making supplies, his palace made of bologna, and its moat of yellow mustard. She will be the Black Widow of Sandwiches, and then you will all regret teasing her.

Caity Weaver of Gawker agrees that foul play is imminent, reacting to quotes from Smith’s blog in which she speaks about making sandwiches as a form of apology, or at 11pm, exhausted in heels:

Those lines aren’t a prelude to the triumphant part of the story where Stephanie prepares Eric a special sandwich consisting of a box jellyfish on a bed of oleander leaves with hemlock garnish—a sandwich which, Stephanie will later testify, she had no idea would poison Eric so swiftly he would expire where he sat (though her browser history will suggest otherwise). They’re just part of the narrative of Sandwich’s charming life. I mean Stephanie’s.

Smith defended herself on the Today Show yesterday, giving two reasons why this challenge isn’t demeaning or sexist. One, Eric does most of the cooking at home. And every one knows that people that cook a lot aren’t sexist. And two, “If he wasn’t the kind of guy that was worth one sandwich, I wouldn’t be making 300 sandwiches.” Awww. Let’s look at what makes him worth it:

  • To him, sandwiches are like kisses or hugs. Or sex.” That does remind us of the Seinfeld when George tries to eat a pastrami sandwich in bed with his girlfriend. Gotta love it.
  • An excerpt from a blog entry about a wrap: “But when E unwrapped his sandwich, he let out a groan. “Yuck! Avocado!”He twisted his face into a frown and used his finger to scoop out the green veggies from his sandwich. ‘That offensive, huh?’ I asked. ‘Bleeech!’ E groaned, mouth full. In five minutes, the sandwich disappeared; the avocado lay discarded on the wrapping paper.” Oye, okay, he doesn’t like avocado. Or using words.
  • In reply to how long sandwich-making-machine Stephanie has been up in the morning: “You’ve been up for 15 minutes and you haven’t made me a sandwich?

Okay, Steph, babes, we think he might not be worth 300 sandwiches. He might not even be worth one really bad one. Like stringy-parts-of-banana and greasy-pizza-napkins between moldy bread bad.

But, to each their own. We’re interested to see how their journey plays out, and if they come out of it with all limbs still in tact.

[via NY Post]